Help
by ringanybells
Summary: Echo escaped from the D.C. Dollhouse, only to wind up in Medina Texas. After she gets someone else in trouble, she calls the one person she can trust. E/P


She looked down at the police officer. She should be panicking, she knows that, but she's not. There is too much going on in her head for panic. She knows she has to run, because if they catch her, the Dollhouse will find her. And she isn't ready to go back yet. But it's been days of living off what she can find in the dumpsters. She's tired and just wants a warm bath. What she needs is help. The only problem is that she has no one. There are three dozen women in her head and they all have people who care for them, but she is Echo. Echo has no one.

Suddenly she stops. She's run several blocks and there's no sign of anyone chasing her. Not that it would matter, the force of the realization stops her any way. Echo does have someone. She has someone, a man. He came after Adelle and the treatments. He never knew Caroline, but he wanted to help her. And after Alpha woke her from her doll state, turned echoes into Echo, he was there. He promised to keep Echo safe, promised to keep her safe. She trusts him, not just because she sat in the chair and he read those words. She trusts him because he didn't turn her in, because he has been her silent support for months. She has to find him.

She has no money, but she has a wealth of knowledge. She needs a computer. The library is four streets over and they have public access terminals. Luckily, there's all this extra information rattling around in her head, finding him should be relatively easy. She sits at the desk and thinks. It takes a moment, but just like before, it happens. She sifts through all the information, the layers of knowledge that she has stored. She finds what she is looking for and her mind slips into it as though it were a jacket made just for her. Her fingers fly across the keyboard. She has to go through several different paths before she finds the right one. And there it is, his cell phone number. It has to be done this way, there's too much anonymity to email. And she has had enough of anonymity.

She writes the number down and looks around. She needs a phone. There is an unmanned desk toward the back of the library, she slips quietly toward it. Picking up the phone, she lets her fingers roam across the digits swiftly, nearing desperation to hear his voice. As the ringing starts, she experiences a brief moment of fear that he won't answer.

Hundreds of miles away, the tinging of his phone calls him from his coffee. He's sitting in a Starbucks, trying to calm his nerves. Echo has disappeared. Boyd has left him dozens of voicemails, trying to get him to come in and help the search. But he can't bring himself to go, they're the reason she's lost. They sent her out alone, they weren't to be trusted. He knows he can find her on his own, he's done it before, hasn't he? Though he's sure it will be Boyd, again, he looks anyway. But it is not Boyd's number; it's no number his phone recognizes, from an area code down south. Like always, curiosity gets the better of him and he answers. "Hello?"

For a second she can't speak, so relieved is she to hear his voice. When he repeats his greeting, she snaps out of it. "I need help." It's not a question, it's a fact. She's found him and she knows he'll help.

He'd know that voice anywhere. Relief washes through him, "Echo?" There are a million questions in his one word.

She can't help the sigh of relief, "Yes, I'm Echo." It is the only response she has. Yes, she's Echo, but she's also so many others. But it is too much to understand or to explain, especially over the phone. "I need help."

He's already out of his seat and moving. Something is wrong, he can hear it in her voice. For her to call him, to risk being found, it must be bad. "Just tell me where you are, I'll come." No conditions, no demands, all he needs is a location.

"It's far." She was unconscious for the transport with the Senator, but before everything went black, his handler was talking about D.C. She'd gotten away from there as quick as possible after the fight at Perrin's home. She'd managed to catch a few rides east, but that was before, when she was relatively clean. She is in Texas now.

"It doesn't matter, just tell me where you are. I'll come get you." A hint of desperation creeps into his voice. He hates to admit it to himself, but he cares for her, more than he should. Somewhere along the way he'd fallen for her. Not for Caroline, whom he'd wanted to save, but for Echo. He wasn't staying at the Dollhouse to save Caroline anymore, he was staying to protect Echo, to save her.

"Medina, Texas, I'm in the library." She can practically hear his shock over the phone.

"How in the world did you get to Texas?" Paul's heart is beating faster. He had left Echo in the Dollhouse, assuming she'd be safe with Boyd there to watch over her. But they had let her get out. And then, they had lost her, allowed her to be taken. Then in D.C., she had slipped through their hands, not once, but twice. What's more, she is Echo, not an imprint. He promised to protect her, and they had gotten in his way. He needs to get to her fast.

"It's a long story, I don't have the time to explain it. I don't have a lot of time at all." She knows that someone will find her there soon; she can't afford another run in with the sheriff.

"Are you in danger right now, in the library?" Paul is thinking fast. He'll never get to her in time if the danger is immediate. A plane will take hours.

"Not if I don't get caught." She keeps her eyes moving, scanning the area for anyone who might pose a threat.

"Okay, listen to me. I'm on my way right now. I want you to stay in the library, do not leave unless you absolutely have to. I'll be on the next flight to Texas. I should get there before the place closes. I want you to go sit in the fiction section, and I will find you there as soon as I can. Can you do that?" He is already flying down the streets. A quick stop at his place, to grab cash and one of the fake IDs he'd swiped from the Dollhouse stores. He will be in Medina by nightfall.

Echo can feel a bit of the tension leave her, he is coming. "Yes, I can. I'll wait for you."

Paul nods to himself. He will be by her side soon. "Just sit tight, Echo, I'm coming."

She says goodbye and hangs up. She glances around the library looking for the fiction section, and then makes her way toward the rows of imagination and fantasy.

Paul's nerves are on edge the entire flight. He nearly decks the kid behind the rental car counter; he spent much too long reading off potential car choices. He breaks several traffic laws between the airport and Medina. But it is worth it when he finally pulls up in front of the Medina City Library. He jumps from the car and dashes inside, scanning left and right for the fiction section. He spots it to the left, toward the back of the building, and tries to control his speed as he makes his way toward it. He scans row after empty row until he comes to the last. With his heart in his throat, he looks around the corner, and there she is.

She is sitting in a large chair, feet tucked under her, a book open in her lap. But her eyes are not on the pages, they are staring right at him, fear clouding them. But as he takes her in, she does the same and the fear withdraws quickly. She is out of the chair before he can take three steps down the aisle and throws her arms around his neck. Despite the distance he has tried to keep between them, he allows them both this moment. He holds her tight.

"I knew you'd come." A million kinds of relief color her tone. She clings to him for a moment longer before pulling back. While waiting, she'd spent the hours sifting through her mind. She knew the man, knew the face. But the name had escaped her until just now. Seeing him, touching him, it had all come rushing back.

When she does, Paul takes a moment to really look at her. He moves his hand to cup her cheek. "Are you all right?"

She doesn't even try to stop the smile that spreads across her face, "Now that you're here." She watches a worried look fleet across his face, and hastens to reassure him. "Relax, Paul, it was a joke. I'm fine, exhausted and starving, but fine."

"Then let's get you some food. You can tell me what's been going on the last few days and why it took you this long to call. Then we'll find a place to stay." He takes her hand and they walk toward the front door.

"We?" She tries to keep hope from her voice. There are dozens of people who love this body, and her mind has loved a dozen more. But Echo cares only for Paul.

"Yes, we, I'm not letting you out of my sight. Don't you get it, Echo, you're free. You're out of the wind, the Dollhouse can't find you." There is a world of possibilities at their feet. She isn't their active any more, she can start over.

"There are still things I have to do, Paul. It's not over yet." She wants nothing more than to forget all about the Dollhouse, but she can't.

"It could be. We could just walk away now. You're out, Echo. That's enough for me. I don't want to let you walk back in there, it's too dangerous." Paul turns toward her, placing his hands on her arms, wanting to shake some sense into her.

"I know, but we can't just leave the others. There's something I have to do here, and then we go back. I need your help, Paul. Please," A part of her wants him to tell her no, to insist they simply lose themselves. But the rest of her knows what is right; it was why she hadn't run sooner.

Again his hand goes to her face, he is amazed at her strength and determination. "Of course, I'll help, Echo. But we can't worry about that now; we have to take care of you first, okay?" The question is superficial, he has every intention of forcing her to take care of herself if need be.

Echo nods and moves her hand to rest on top of Paul's. Her eyes close for a minute as her brain sifts through a dozen different scenarios so similar to this one. So similar, and yet they could not be more different. Over two dozen romantic engagements and she'd been placed in each one. For the first time since entering the Dollhouse, she is choosing her own. She opens her eyes and leans forward, her lips meeting his.

He isn't prepared for it and he doesn't stop it. He's thought about kissing Echo for ages. The reality is so much better than the fantasy. She is the one to pull back. Looking in her eyes, he sees what he knows is reflected in his own. But he watches her stamp it down. There is work to be done first. "Come on, Echo, let's go."


End file.
